


Authentic

by cowlicklesschick



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, inner turmoil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowlicklesschick/pseuds/cowlicklesschick
Summary: Paige almost wants to laugh, but instead the lump in her throat forces her to admit that the shock has faded, of watching the side of Walter that appeared tonight, the one with the smiles and compliments and that voice. Now, it just…hurts. More than she expected it to.And that just makes her feel stupid.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RomanceAddiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanceAddiction/gifts).



> My assignment was angst with a happy ending. Idk if this is what you had in mind but I hope you like it! Happy Holidays.
> 
> Because we all secretly want another episode like Charades from season 1.
> 
> Set any time, hopefully not too far into the future.

 

 

Look.

Paige isn’t angry, okay? She’s _not_.

No matter what Toby says.

She has to keep resisting the urge to argue, because that would only prove the shrink’s point, and if she thinks he’s insufferable now, she knows it will be a thousand times worse if his psychobabble crap gets validated.

Just…this whole situation is really unfair. And no one, not even Sly, is being sympathetic _at all_.

She grits her teeth as the blonde giggles again, watches her run a hand over Walter’s shoulder, up to play with the hair that insists on curling at his shirt collar no matter how many times he cuts it.

Walter smiles, actually _smiles_ – not that pained grimace he adopts when he wants people to think he’s happy but is in reality pissed off.

(That’s okay, since Paige is in all likelihood pissed off enough for the both of them.)

The woman is a known operative in a jewel smuggling ring, one that pretends to be a security firm and robs people blind as soon as they’re given the clients’ private information.

Scorpion managed to lure the organization here to L.A. with bait – fake diamonds that Happy and Walter made which look real enough to fool expert jewelers at first glance, and the claim that they were stolen from some wealthy person’s safety deposit box – a box that contains plenty more to steal.

Walter arranged a meetup in a bar, posing as the millionaire that Scorpion pretended to steal the diamonds from. The biggest potential problem is if it’s discovered that the robbers and the robbed, in this instance, are the same people and the whole thing’s a set up.

Still, it’s going pretty smoothly so far. The possibility of buying stolen diamonds to sell later, as well as steal whatever’s left in the bank account, proved too hard to resist, which means Scorpion has the bad guys painted right into a corner.

Now all that remains to be done is for Anne to spoof Walter’s phone so she’ll find the phony bank account information. The only thing they don’t know is if Anne herself will carry out the robbery, or one of her accomplices will do it while Anne keeps _Mr. Lucas_ …busy.

Much like the case with Fatima, Walter was their only option. Sylvester would be a disaster, Cabe is on standby in case Anne turns out to be armed, Happy is busy rigging the fake deposit box for when Anne (hopefully) takes the bait and makes her move to clear out poor, unsuspecting Mr. Lucas’ funds.

Toby is in the back of the van, watching the surveillance cameras for any of Anne’s colleagues, while Paige sits in the front, ready to guide the world’s most atrocious flirter through another honey-pot mission.

Except he’s not actually needing that much help.

No, Walter O’Brien is actually handling himself marvelously right now, and it’s just bizarre, seeing him like this. He’s _suave,_ and sounds exactly the way he looks to most strangers before they hear him speak – like a handsome guy who successfully picks up lingerie models in bars every weekend.

She has to bite down a laugh when she pictures Walter trying to seduce a lingerie model – or, even better, being seduced _by_ one.

Still, most of the flirting thus far has been non-tactile, physical markers, ones that Walter has learned to recognize through Scorpion’s previous missions. Paige comforts herself with the fact that this just means Walter is a fast learner, that’s all. Once the verbal cues and the touching start, he’ll be like a fish out of water.

Even as she thinks it, Paige watches on her screen as Anne smiles, and leans close enough where her sultry voice picks up on Walter’s comm.

“I have a hotel room upstairs.”

Paige readies herself to coach Walter through the obvious come-on, but her jaw drops when she sees one of his hands reach down, graze Anne’s thigh, fingertips just brushing beneath the hem of her skirt.

Then Walter clears his throat, and the timbre of his voice makes Paige flush, from her cheeks all the way down to her collarbone.

“For the sake of, uh, public decency, I hope it’s not too long an elevator ride.”

There’s a beat in which Anne’s grin is slow and soft, then -

“ _What_.” Toby’s eyebrows have disappeared beneath his hat.

Paige’s mouth is bone-dry, otherwise she’d agree with him.

By the time Anne and Walter are in the elevator – which has no cameras, and she can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing – Paige is reasonably sure that Walter has simply grown enough emotionally to know what to say to a woman. It’s a tremendous sign of progress. Which makes her happy, and all that. He’s learned body language and how to carry on a normal conversation with a woman. Yippee.

But then the elevator doors slide open, and Paige _gawks_ – there’s no hiding it at this point – Walter is behind Anne, arms around her middle and pressing himself completely against her as they shuffle down the hall. Anne keeps reaching back and grabbing his thighs, and when she tips her head against Walter’s shoulder he brushes her hair out of the way so he can lean down and kiss her neck. It’s a gesture used by every rom-com in existence, but Walter somehow manages to convey an actual _hunger_ in his movements, and Paige actually has to admit that she’s glad she’s sitting down.

“Holy crap,” Toby mutters. “Paige, did you teach him that move?”

 _Are you kidding? I want him to teach_ me _that move._

“No,” she snaps. “Now shut up.”

Toby looks surprised at first by her sharp tone, but then he quickly switches to ‘condescending jerk’ mode.

He smirks. “Am I allowed to guess how long it’ll take him to dig himself out of the doghouse for this one?”

Paige watches Anne fumble with the card key, and as the door swings open she turns to press her lips to his. Walter reciprocates, shoves her against the doorjamb, runs his hands down her sides.

“I’m not mad, Toby.” Her fingernails bite into her palm when she hears Anne moan into Walter’s mouth.

“Sure you’re not.”

She watches Walter dig his fingers into Anne’s hips – since when do security cameras have this high of a resolution? – and swallows thickly.

“Walter, the cops just arrested Anne’s partner at the bank. We got ‘em.”

Happy barely finishes her sentence before Walter pulls a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket. He doesn’t stop kissing Anne, instead he takes her hand as though he’s about to step away and tug her with him to the bedroom. She must think the same thing, because she leans forward off the doorframe, which unknowingly gives him room to move quickly and pull both of her wrists behind her back, cinch the cuffs into place.

“What – “ Anne’s eyes widen, then her smoldering grin returns. ”So you’re _that_ kind of guy…”

“Huh?” Walter frowns. “They’re handcuffs. You’re under arrest.”

Anne giggles. “You should’ve brought a costume. But I guess I can pretend you’re undercover or something.”

“I _am_ undercover,” Walter says, in his _I-am-using-small-words-why-are-you-not-understanding-me_ voice. “I’m with Homeland Security.”

Anne’s forehead wrinkles. “That doesn’t sound as sexy as a cop. Or CIA, but I guess – “

Cabe swears over the comms. “I’ll be there in two minutes, Walt. Paige, would you take pity on the guy already?”

_What?_

Oh. Right.

Her job.

Paige clears her throat. “Walter, she thinks you’re still roleplaying.”

“What’s roleplaying?” he demands, squinting up at the ceiling.

She’s spared from answering that question – over _comms_ , too, where _Cabe_ can hear them, _gross_ – by Anne asking who Walter’s talking to.

“My team,” he says, thoroughly exasperated now. “We just arrested your partner trying to rob my fake bank account. The diamonds are fake too, by the way.”

Anne stares at him for a couple of seconds before reality dawns. “You lying – “

Cabe arrives in the middle of her rather impressive list of expletives, just in time to keep her from attacking Walter – cuffed hands or no, Paige thinks Anne could probably do some pretty serious damage. She’s wearing pointy-toed stilettos, after all.

It seems like it takes hours to wrap up the case, but at long last they make it back to the garage. Paige sets about her normal task of paperwork, only tonight she makes an extra effort not to look up where Walter is erasing the online accounts he created for his alias.

“What a night,” Toby sighs, tossing his pen haphazardly onto his desk. “Walt, you gonna be able to sleep tonight, buddy? Or do we need to have a night out on the town?”

It’s said purely for Paige’s benefit; even if she doubted that, Toby’s sideways glance at her would prove it. She doesn’t respond, except for signing her name so forcefully that it tears through the paper.

“Strippers would be as pointless as actually flirting with Anne would have been,” Walter rolls his eyes. “I learned how to feign interest in a woman. Tonight it helped us complete our mission. I don’t understand your obsession over my execution methods.”

 _Execution methods?_ Paige almost wants to laugh, but instead the lump in her throat forces her to admit that the shock has faded, of watching the side of Walter that appeared tonight, the one with the smiles and compliments and that _voice_. Now, it just…hurts. More than she expected it to.

And that just makes her feel stupid.

“I’m not obsessed,” Toby props his feet on his desk, and smirks at Walter from beneath the rim of his hat. “ _Anne_ was the one who was obsessed. You must have really improved in the tonsil hockey arena, Walt, because that woman was putty in your hands. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Paige swallows, and stares down at the papers on her desk as she reshuffles them.

“Doc,” Happy sets her blowtorch down in that enunciated way she has. “Let’s get going, I wanna eat before Klovelsky’s closes.”

“Aw, Hap I –“ Toby falls silent at the look sent to him across the room. “Ahem. Sure thing, my beautiful beloved.”

Sylvester left an hour ago, since Ralph is staying the night with him. Cabe went straight to Homeland after the case was over, so once Happy shoves Toby out the door, Paige finds herself alone with Walter, and woefully unprepared for it.

“I need to give Happy a raise,” he mutters. She glances up, smiles a bit when she sees the way he’s slumped over his desk, face buried in his hands. He peeks at her between his fingers. “Are you headed home soon?”

“No,” she says regretfully. “I’ve learned the hard way that putting these reports off till Monday morning just makes the week start off miserable.”

“Right.” He puts his pen away, switches off his desk lamp. She watches him tidy up his work area before he walks over to the communal table in the center of the room. “Do…um, d-do you want any help?”

She can’t help but smile; he offers on a regular basis, but it always seems as though he’s afraid of bothering her. “If you want. I understand if you’re tired.”

“Not any more than you,” he says quietly, and she looks up to find his eyes on her, searching. The intensity of his gaze became familiar a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean she’s used to it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He stands there, just looking at her, and Paige feels her pulse begin to accelerate.

_Not good._

“Coffee?” She asks.

“Hm? Oh – right. Yeah, sure.” He spins on his heel, towards the coffee machine, while Paige scoops up her little paper-mountain-range and moves it to the table. They both have to sign some of the forms; it’s more logical to work in closer proximity so they don’t have to keep getting up and walking back and forth between their desks.

Paige can practically hear Toby’s derisive snort, despite his absence, and it makes her frown.

 _It’s efficient_ , she argues silently.

 _It’s pathetic, is what it is_.

She sets her shoulders, determined not to let Toby annoy her any further, even long distance.

“Do we have any more cinnamon?” Walter rummages through coffee filters and packages of sweetener.

“Uh, yeah. In the kitchen, I think.” Paige heads in that direction – she got some on the last grocery trip, but it’s entirely possible Toby hid it. What that guy has against cinnamon, she will never understand. It’s not like he’s allergic or anything.

It takes a few minutes, but she finds it in the top cupboard, tucked away behind a family-size package of paper plates. “Found it,” she calls.

Walter hurries around the corner. “Good, I just – “ he pauses. “What are you doing?”

Bemused, she looks over and sees him staring at the way she’s kneeling on the counter. “Oh – I couldn’t reach.”

“So why didn’t you stand on a chair? Or a stepstool o-or – “ He gestures vaguely, his voice sounding strange, choked.

She frowns. “I don’t know. I just…sort of hopped up here. It’s not like I’m going to fall or anything.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Walter thinks she’s taking unnecessary risks – once, he actually fussed at her for running with scissors. She squints at him, wondering if that’s what’s happening now.

“Walter, I’m fine.” She knows he doesn’t do it to be overprotective; he mentally runs through possible scenarios by force of habit, and coming across one where she could get hurt bothers him. Still, it’s been a while since he’s played mother hen.

“Hm? Oh – I know. S-sorry. Here.” He crosses to her quickly, offers his hand to help her slide back to the floor.

Hardly a romantic gesture, but she’ll take what she can get.

“Thanks.” She tries to smile up at him, but fails when she sees the furrow between his brows. “Walter, I wasn’t going to fall.”

“I know.” His fingers are still curled around hers, his thumb running absently over her knuckles.

“Then what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, but unconsciously his eyes sweep down her frame, lingering for several moments on her skirt before flitting back up. “Uh…”

Paige frowns, unsure of what her clothes have to do with any of this. “Did I get something on me?” She thought she checked that the countertop was clean.

“No,” he hastily assures her. “No, it’s – nice. A nice skirt. Com – uh, comfortable looking. Short. Um. The p-pattern is aesthetically pleasing.”

Of all the weird conversations she’s had with Walter over the years, this one takes the prize.

“Um. Thanks?”

She pauses, running over his list of positive attributes for her clothing choice.

_Short?_

Remembering the strange tone he used when he asked why she was on the counter, it suddenly makes a bit more sense. Her jaw drops – the only time Walter has ever complimented her appearance was when she had to wear a superhero costume. Now he’s fixated on her in a short skirt?

Part of her knows that it’s his fumbling, awkward way of admitting that he finds her attractive. But the other part of her, the one that was forced to sit and watch him seduce another gorgeous woman, the one that’s currently watching him keep his back to her while he makes the coffee…

That part flares with irritation.

And Paige, who is normally much more controlled (especially when talking to geniuses who may not always know that she’s not mad at them, that she’s just venting), snaps.

“Anne’s skirt was longer than this one, but you had your hands all over her.”

The moment the words leave her mouth, Paige closes her eyes, begs for the earth beneath her feet to open up and swallow her whole.

“What?”

She peeks through one eye; Walter is staring at her, frozen in the middle of adding another scoop of coffee grounds to the machine. His half-turned stance has tilted the spoon so that the grounds are trickling over the edge onto the counter. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Nothing.”

“No, not nothing,” he insists, the staunchness of his argument taking her off guard. “You’re upset with me. Why?”

She’s not sure when Walter learned to read her so well. Did Toby teach him?

_Or maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t spoken to him like that since he got Ralph in trouble with the FBI._

“I’m not upset with you, Walter.” Not for anything that he’s done wrong, anyway.

“Paige.” Walter sets the spoon back into the plastic container of coffee, comes closer until he’s just outside arm’s reach. “What did I do?”

 _Nothing. You did exactly what you were supposed to do, better than any of us expected, and I don’t_ _understand how you can have feelings for me and I had no idea that side of you existed._

Paige takes a deep breath. “Walter, I…I just had some confusing feelings about the case today. I’m sorry I took it out on you like that.”

Walter frowns. “Paige, I – “ he clears his throat, looks up at the ceiling. “I’m not an expert in these things, but my, uh, methods seemed to get the job done with Anne. Did I misunderstand? Did I do something wrong?”

She almost laughs. “No, Walter. You, uh…did great. I was surprised. Really surprised.”

“Surprised?” he echoes.

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs, wonders why she hasn’t shut up yet. “You’ve never demonstrated any, um….attraction for a woman like that. But she was beautiful, so I guess I can understand.”

The truth behind those words leaves a bitter taste in her mouth; even though she’s wrapped her arms around him and knows the feel of lips against her own, Walter showed more fear that night than anything else. She knows part of that was his natural reaction to touch, but she can’t help wondering deep down if tonight’s case was so easy for him because Anne’s looks made the physical aspects more bearable.

“I haven’t?” Walter looks stunned.

“Haven’t…what?” Paige rewinds through her internal monologue, back to what she said last. “Oh. Well, um…no. You haven’t. You’ve never given any indication that you find any woman as attractive as you did Anne tonight.”

Walter doesn’t respond, but he stares at the floor with what she can only describe as a dejected look.

Great. He was so pleased with their success today, and she’s gone and depressed him.

“Anyway. I guess we’ll need that coffee if we want to get done with these forms, huh?” She starts to walk briskly past, but right as she’s beside him he stops her with a question.

“You don’t believe me?”

She doesn’t know how to respond, but Walter seems to take her silence as an answer. He sighs, faces her.

“I wasn’t attracted to Anne,” he says bluntly. “I’m not blind enough to suppose that others would find her extremely beautiful, but her…uh, charms had no effect on me.”

“They seemed to work pretty well,” she argues, cautious. She has a feeling she just opened a floodgate, and she’s terrified as to what will come through it.

“Paige, that was _acting_. I already told Toby this. Do you not believe me?”

He sounds so hurt. “Of course I believe you, Walter. It’s just – “

_Shut up shut up shut UP_

“Just what?” He looks so frustrated, and she hates herself for being the reason. She knows nothing but the truth will satisfy him now.

“Just…you weren’t like…that. With me.” She tries to whisper the words, half-hoping he’ll mishear her and this conversation will head back towards safe footing, away from the all too powerful memories of a kiss that made both of them ‘ _feel nothing_.’

“Like what?”

Walter’s face leaves no doubt in her mind that he knows exactly what _with me_ is referring to. He doesn’t look nearly as terrified as she feels, which she doesn’t know if she’s impressed by or ashamed of.

“Like…like you couldn’t keep your hands off me. Like you couldn’t get enough, like you never wanted to let go. That’s how it looked with Anne today, and I know it was all for show, Walter, I do. But – “

His hands on her hips makes her gasp, whatever she was going to say next flying out the window.

“Walter – ?”

He catches her completely by surprise, and shoves her; Walter has never been like this with her, almost rough. But his hands are gentle, even as he pushes her back several steps until she’s against the work table, and then she almost squeaks when he lifts her to sit on the edge.

“Wal –“

That’s as far as she gets, before he slides his hands up into her hair and crushes his mouth onto hers.

He’s solid, and _warm_ , and the little callouses on the pads of his fingers scratch against the soft skin of her hairline; Paige is too overwhelmed to do anything at first other than grasp his forearms and try to keep up with him. He kisses her in a way that defies logic – soft yet sturdy, aggressive yet tender.

“You drive me crazy,” he says, between kisses. His voice makes her tremble. “Those…those stupid skirts. A-and your hair, like this. Pulled b-back from your face, but…but hanging down your back – “

As if to prove his point, one hand gently tugs her hair so her head tips back, and he licks his way down to her collarbone.

She’s half convinced that she’s dreaming. But her dreams have never felt like this, and never in a million years would she have guessed Walter O’Brien to be… _talkative._

“You bite your lip when you’re doing invoices and are trying to concentrate,” he continues. She feels his teeth nip at her, and gasps so loudly that it would be embarrassing, were she in the frame of mind to care. “A-and some…some days you wear r-red lipstick, and –“

She doesn’t ever find out what her red lipstick does to him, because he comes back up and she loses herself in the taste of him once more. (That’s okay, she figures. She can use context clues.)

When he leans closer, tips her back to lay on the tabletop, bends over and presses his torso down so she can feel him shoulder to hip, Paige begins to regain control of her limbs. At some point he moved to stand between her legs. She lifts one up, curls a foot behind his thigh and tugs him closer.

He inhales sharply, swears, scrapes his teeth down her throat before kissing it, so gently that tears spring up in her eyes.

_Walter._

How much time passes is anyone’s guess. Walter, who normally juggles four or five tasks at once, is utterly and totally absorbed in making her writhe and gasp as much as possible; Paige rakes one hand through his hair, digs her fingertips into his shoulder when one of his hands spans her ribs, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her breathing.

“It was easy,” he pulls back suddenly, panting, looking down at her with such open affection that she wants to cry all over again. “It was easy today because I felt nothing for her. I’m good at pretending.”

She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Walter – “

“It’s different with you.” He rests his forehead against hers. She can tell by his breathing that he’s on the verge of overload, but he pushes on. “I can’t pretend you don’t affect me, Paige. All this time I thought I was being so obvious, I felt like I had a neon sign on my forehead. Looking at you is all it takes sometimes to...for me to lose control.”

“And that scares you.” Paige understands.

“Not anymore,” Walter shocks her. “D-doing this with…with her, was…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “Boring. It was boring.”

“Because you knew it was for the case?”

“No,” he grimaces. “Because I didn’t like how it felt. How…how _she_ felt.”

“Oh.” Paige blinks. “So – “

“This,” he murmurs, smoothing his thumb over her temple. “Paige, _this_ is what it’s supposed to f-feel like. I know that now, but…but before you, I had no idea. Now that I’ve experienced it, no other woman could ever hold my interest because no one could ever m-make me feel like you do.”

“Walter,” she chokes out a laugh. “I – how do you always know what to say?”

“I don’t,” he sounds surprised, as if he didn’t just give her the sexiest, most bone-melting compliment of her life. “I just tell the truth.”

He reaches down, kisses her again, and Paige thinks she should tell him _,_ that when it comes to him, _this_ has always been different for her, too.

She decides she can tell him later – for now, this is enough.

 


End file.
